


the road has been too long

by apollothyme



Category: Marvel
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Genderbending, M/M, New Avengers, Peter Parker Has a Family, Secret Identity, Team Dynamics, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothyme/pseuds/apollothyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as the Avengers know, Peter is still firmly in the closet. It’s not that he’s ashamed. Only an idiot would be ashamed of dating someone like MJ, not to mention shame is not emotion he’s familiar with in the first place. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to introduce MJ without introducing himself first.</p><p>Or, the story of how Peter reveals his secret identity to the Avengers and comes out of the closet while he's at it. Told from Peter's POV, this story has Peter/guy-MJ and Steve/Tony as the main pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the road has been too long

**Author's Note:**

> First things first - if your headcanon for guy-MJ isn't Michael B Jordan, inspired by [Andrew's Garfield's wise words](http://tonysboner.tumblr.com/post/55593206199/why-cant-we-discover-that-peter-is-exploring-his), then I would like it if you reconsidered your choices before you read this fic.
> 
> Secondly, big thanks to [Edith](http://adamwarlock.tumblr.com/), who is the best pal of all the pals that have ever palled, and to [Kiran](http://kiransingh.tumblr.com/), who always gets excited about the thing when I most need her to.
> 
> Not beta'ed so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Any critiques, comments, reviews or basic spell-checks are appreciated. x

Peter Parker is not a lucky man.

This is not the same as saying he is unlucky. He simply isn’t lucky. There are differences.

Take today for example. If Peter was unlucky, he would have burnt his breakfast to a crisp after he left the toaster on for too long. As it was, the bread came out just on the side of bit too toasted, nothing that a heavy layer of butter couldn’t fix. When he dropped his toast in surprise as MJ’s phone started to ring obnoxiously through the apartment, the part with the butter should have followed the laws of physics and fallen on the floor face first. It didn’t, falling squarely on its naked side in a mildly clean area of the kitchen. He also remembered to set back his alarm clock and grab one of his classes test results before he left for work.

All of this put together means, very clearly, that he is not unlucky. He isn’t, unfortunately, lucky either, because lucky people don’t get their asses kicked to the ground by a giant metal spider as they wait for their team to show up, and hey, guess what Peter is currently doing.

At least he’s finished with work already, no need to worry about letting his lunch break drag for too long and get reprimanded for skipping out on class. That would have been the cherry on top of the cake.

Giant metal spider, though. Talk about things that are so not raven.

“It’s like you’re mocking me,” Peter says as he sets a web around the light post he’s crouching on and swings towards the nearest building.

He hopes nobody is mocking him, that would be as bad as leaving Deadpool alone in a pancake batter factory. It’s one thing to get your ass ended to you by a giant, scary, robot spider trying to take over the New York or something else equally dangerous, it’s another to get your ass ended to you by said robot built _just_ for the purpose of kicking your ass. That would be so embarrassing. Peter could already see Logan’s mocking grin, Jessica’s jokes about him being an inferior Spider-Man for not keeping the spiders in check, Tony building tiny spiders and setting the around the tower to scare Peter at inopportune moments. They would never let him live it down.

The stupid robot hadn’t even been doing anything before Peter came along. It popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, as all stupid villain machines do, and Peter could swear this was one of Doom’s toys if it weren’t for the fact that it didn’t have ‘Doom is awesome’ written on it, and walked around the city until it saw Peter in his Spider-Man outfit. Then it went freaking crazy, shooting webs out of _molten steel_ and trying to go, well, basically kill Peter, a common enough occurrence that it only made him scream for tiny, little a second before he got its act together.

“I really hope you have a purpose,” Peter shouts, running across a building’s ledge as he lead the robot into a narrow alley. “Because honestly, if you don’t, this will just be embarrassing for both of us, although I reckon it will be more for me than for you. It always is.”

His webs weren’t sticking to the spider’s surface like they should, sliding to the floor as if they were nothing but useless pieces of string, which meant that it was time to improvise. Not a problem. Peter was great at improvising and this time he wasn’t being sarcastic.

He set a couple of webs from wall to wall at the entrance of the alley, near the floor and mostly hidden in the shadows and then dropped down.

He was great at improvising. He was not, however, that great at coming up with plans where he wasn’t, somehow, the bait. “You just can’t have it all,” Peter says, because he’s never been above talking to himself when no one else is there.

The spider - it’s not very fast, just stronger and more resistant than you’d think - takes a while to come after him, needing a little bit of help.

“Hey you, big, gray and scary. Neither of us is getting any younger. Hellooo,” Peter shouts, waving as he speaks to further grab the robot’s attention.

It doesn’t scan the area, Peter doesn’t think it has that ability, simply runs in when it finally spots its red and blue dinner and then crashes on the floor loudly and painfully like the gigantic, stupid, extremely heavy piece of metal it is. The fall is not enough to knock it down for good, but it is enough to give Peter the time he needs to rip off three of its arms. After that the robot can’t find its balance, wobbling from side to side and crashing into the walls of both buildings with each step. Peter hopes the owners have insurance.

The Avengers show up around this time, Iron Man with Cap glued to its side, Spider-Woman flying solo, and Luke and Wolverine running.

For one second, Peter dares to think that he is lucky. The situation is under control and the danger has been handled all because of him. He looks good, looks like a damn hero even though he knows Jameson will find a way to twist the situation later, and his team are all there to see it. Then ten other giant metal spiders pop up out of freaking nowhere - seriously where are they coming from? - and all hell breaks loose. Peter Parker is not a lucky man and the universe loves to remind him of that.

“How come all the spiders showed up when you guys got here? Anything you want to say to me?” Peter asks, not expecting an answer.

He runs beneath one of the spiders to see if he can wrap his webs around its legs and tie it into a knot while the Wolverine distracts it with his manly claws.

“Yeah, kid. I’m going to hire pest control to get rid of all the spiders in New York. All of them,” Wolverine replies, because he is unbearingly lovely like that.

“Ouch, that hurt,” Peter says, not paying too much attention to their banter. He likes to run his mouth during fights, makes it easier to let his movements stay loose and his thoughts not too tense, but he also knows how important it is to focus when you have a job at hand and there are lives on stake, and there are always lives on stake.

“Iron-Man, two o’clock,” Cap calls, sharp and precise.

“Got it, Cap,” Iron Man replies.

They sound professional, like the mean, lean superheroes everyone knows them as. They would look professional too if Iron Man didn’t grab Cap’s hand the next second to pull him out the way of a repulsor blast and then forget to let it go. The only reason Peter doesn’t mention anything is because he’s waiting for Luke to get his cell phone out and take a picture. Some things you just have to have framed.

They win the fight, they’re not the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes for no reason - and if Peter squeals inside as he remembers that he’s included in that group, no one can hear him - but there are a lot of close shots. Iron Man gets an ugly hit on the chest, and Luke would have been knocked out if Spider-Woman hadn’t swooped in and pulled him to the side.

Peter feels his ribs beneath his costume as SHIELD shows up with heavy trucks to take away the spiders. He’s pretty sure he hears someone say ‘Doom’ and ‘back from vacation’ at some point, but he’s not paying them too much attention. Nothing of his is broken or cracked, only bruised. His right leg has a limp, which is nothing an ice pack can’t fix, and his head is throbbing like a hammer is trying to crack it from the inside, which is nothing he hasn’t handled before. He escapes medical care before anyone can say something anyway. Everyone else must be expecting it because he doesn’t hear any protests, although he’s sure Spider-Woman and Cap give him dirty looks.

It’s always the same. Peter doesn’t like having people poke and prod at him, hands a bit too close to the mask. Cap doesn’t like seeing his team running away before they can get checked. It’d be a battle of wills if it weren’t for the fact that Peter is faster and knows when to stay put when things get truly ugly.

“Spider-Man, I want to see you at the tower when we get back!” Cap shouts after him, like he always does.

He and Tony are standing way too close, as they usually are, and why they’re still bothering to pretend they’re not together is way beyond Peter. Their banter during the missions is worse than anything Peter can come up with, so sickeningly sweet it's one cake away from giving everyone diabetes.

“I’ll be there, Cap,” Peter replies.

He was headed towards the tower anyway. MJ is out of town filming a commercial and he won’t be back until the end of the night, which means their apartment will be empty and lonely and devoid of anything to do. At the tower there will be congratulatory pizza and movie night, and Peter is never one to say ‘no’ to pizza unless he has better plans AKA unless he can get pizza with MJ.

He’s stupidly, pathetically, embarrassingly in love, yes. Sue him.

Actually, don’t. Peter does not have enough money to pay anyone anything and he’d rather not ask Tony for a loan. Again.

He is the first one to the tower, slipping inside through a glass window opened by Jarvis just for him. He gets some cookie cream ice cream and an ice pack from the freezer, lets the pizza menu on the kitchen island and heads towards the living room. Everyone shows up around the same time, Logan and Jessica heading towards the kitchen like Peter did, Luke to another room to call Jess and Cap and Tony to one of their rooms. Peter wonders if they’re even trying to be subtle as they both go the same direction, despite the fact that Tony’s room is on a different floor, or if they simply don’t know how to say "Hey everyone, we’re gay for each other. That’s all."

Not that Peter is one to talk. He is still firmly in the closet as far as the Avengers know. It’s not that he’s ashamed, only an idiot would be ashamed of dating someone like MJ, and shame is not emotion he’s very familiar with in the first place. It’s simply that he doesn’t know how to introduce MJ without introducing himself first.

Speaking of it, he should really get on with that. The Avengers are as much part of his family now as Aunt May and MJ are. They are not always there, sometimes because Peter doesn’t call them, others because he can’t, but nevertheless they are always more than willingly to give out a helping hand. They have Peter’s back in fight, treat him as any other member of the team even though he is the only one who still has a secret identity and protect him whenever they can. Peter trusts them with his life, not wavering, not needing to think about it, but he doesn’t yet trust them with his name, too used to the utmost need to hide for the sake of his loved ones to be able to snap out of it.

He wants to though. He really, really does. Everyone but him grabs a quick shower or changes clothes before they come to the living room, so that they look comfortable and probably feel minty fresh while Peter wears his dirty costume and looks like a damn bozo in red and blue. He could always grab a shower too, but he’d have to put the suit on afterwards and spandex didn't go well with wet skin. No, sir, it did not.

“Great job out there today, Spider-Man,” Caps calls as he enters the room. He sits on the couch next to Peter’s, Tony slipping next to him easily, eyes glued to the tablet in his hands.

“Thanks,” Peter replies around a mouthful of ice cream. He feels Cap’s eyes on him rather than sees them, his gaze focused on the marathon of Hell’s Kitchen currently playing on the TV.

Peter waits for Cap to say something even though he’s never been more desperate to open his mouth and let it run until Cap forgets whatever he wants to say because this? This is not good. Having Captain America stare at him like he’s the source of all his problems while Peter is holding an ice pack against his knee with one hand and eating ice cream with the other is not good.

“You should have let medical take a look at you before you ran away.”

Ah, yes. He was right. Not good.

“It’s fine. I know my limits,” he says. He wants to crack a joke, say something about how he’s had worse in the past, but he knows it would come out too self-deprecating and he doesn’t need that right now.

He can feel the others pointedly not looking at either of them. Only Tony’s eyes trail from him to Cap before he goes back to looking at his tablet. That is also not good. You can expect many things from the Avengers, but for them to keep quiet at any moment of space and time is not one of them. That might be mostly Peter’s fault, but his point still stands.

He prepares himself for the next verbal hit to land, he can tell when a fight is headed his way, his spider sense tingling faintly, but the hit doesn’t come, and after a couple of minutes Peter lets himself relax.

On the television Gordon Ramsay is screaming at people, as if he ever did anything else, and Peter has to close his eyes as the noise becomes too much. His headache has been steadily growing instead of disappearing, as if the hammer inside his skull as been replaced by the mighty Mjolnir, which is not funny in the slightest because one hit from that and Peter is cookie batter on the floor.

He lifts his hand to his head to hold it for a second, and does not expect to feel something wet above his right eyebrow, much less thought he’d see blood when he takes a look at it. He knew he’d pissed off the universe when his toast fell with the butter side up, he just knew it. Nobody gets to break a law like that and expect to get away with it.

“Holy hell, Webhead, that does not look good,” Jessica says, making everyone turn to stare at Peter and the red stain that must be on the top of his mask.

“You said you hadn’t been injured,” Tony says, taking Cap’s role of mother hen because he’s like that sometimes, when he’s not too busy swooning over Cap or drowning in work.

“Didn’t think I was,” Peter replies, feeling the wound with the tip of his fingers. Bleeding, which meant he had a cut; definitely bruised, but it doesn't feel like anything is broken.

Jessica and Cap get up and edge closer to the sofa Peter is sitting on, staring at him with disapproval and what Peter hopes is worry. Logan is still watching television, but Peter can tell he’s looking at him out the corner of his eye. Luke and Tony are both sitting up straight, openly staring, not looking happy in the slightest.

The happy mood that always strikes everyone whenever they win a fight has completely vanished from the room, replaced by a much stormier, darker atmosphere. Or maybe that’s Peter projecting, because right now, he definitely feels like Thor is the one with the hammer inside his head.

And the thing is, Peter knows they’re only worried. They’re his teammates. They’re superheroes. Worrying about other people is what they all do, no matter how much Logan tries to pretend he’s a manly man who only does manly things like drink beer and not have any feelings. They’re worried about him, because they don’t know him, don’t know where he goes, don’t know much about him except that he puts on a red and blue costume everyday and tries to help save the world whenever he can.

Peter should have stayed for medical, let SHIELD’s doctors fix him and bandage him up, and then he should have gone home, where he wouldn’t have his friends who didn’t even know his real name looming over him and reaching their hands towards his mask, which-- just-- _don’t_.

The movement is instinctive. One moment he’s sitting down, watching as Cap’s hand gets closer to his mask, the next he’s scrambling off the back of the couch. He sees the look that crosses his teammates’ faces - hurt? shock? - before they store it away and replace it with easier emotions like disappointment and anger. Peter’s been on the receiving end of this look more times than he’d like to count.

“You need to get that looked,” Jessica says.

“I’ll do it,” he replies, skittish and too quick, and yeah, there’s definitely pain there.

They think he doesn’t trust them. He’s saved their lives, and they’ve saved his life, and they think he doesn’t trust them. If Aunt May could see him now she’d probably give him a big hug and say something like "Oh, _Peter"._

Oh, Peter indeed.

He runs off towards the nearest bathroom with his head swimming and his muscles aching everywhere. Maybe he hadn’t escaped as bruised free as he thought. He knows he’s going to find a first aid kit under the sink, because there’s a first aid kit everywhere in the tower, and a moment of privacy where he can freak out, which is good, because Peter really needs to freak out.

He takes off his mask and sees a motley of purple and red bruising covering the right side of his forehead, with a nasty cut right in the center of it. The wound looks superficial thanks to his sturdier-than-it-looks build, but it still warrants at least two aspirins in his system to handle.

After cleaning the cut, Peter does the second thing he came to the bathroom to do: he freaks out. He calls MJ while he’s at it because freaking out alone is horrible and  it only makes him pace whatever room he’s in and throw stuff out the window.

“So I might have done a not good thing,” is the first thing he says when MJ accepts the call, because MJ knows him and gets him and he still makes Peter feel like a prepubescent teenage boy whenever they’re close to each other, but that’s alright because Peter has it under good authority MJ feels the same way.

“A not good thing?” MJ asks. He sounds serious, but despite that there is still fond laughter in his voice. It’s more than a little heart-warming.

Peter can hear voices behind him, some shouts, things getting moved around. MJ must still be on set, but he wouldn’t be too busy at that moment or he wouldn’t have taken Peter’s call.

“There was a fight. Doom made a bunch of giant metal spiders, I swear it was just to mock me, and I got hit. I’m ok, seriously, nothing to call home about,” Peter adds, knowing MJ will worry if he doesn’t cross his heart and swear on it that he’s alive and well. “Only a couple of bruises and a stupid cut that started to bleed while I was in the living room with the rest of the Avengers. We were having pizza. And then Cap and Spider-Woman got a bit too close, because you know, bleeding, and I sort of, maybe, possibly freaked out and ran out the room.”

“Why?” MJ’s voice is quiet, a sharp contrast to Peter’s slightly maniac, jumpy tone, which would be a pair of legs sprinting out the window if it had a physical form.

“On my forehead. The cut was on my forehead,” Peter explains, sighing, “I knew they'd want to take a look at it and I just. I freaked out. Basically. Because I’m socially incompetent like that.”

“Oh, _Peter_ ,” MJ says and he could give Aunt May a run for her money, he really could.

One year. That’s how long they’ve been together. One year and they already live together in a cramped apartment they can barely afford, already share clothes and food and money like none of it is a big deal, and the best part? It’s not. It should probably worry Peter, having someone worm their way underneath his skin so quickly and so deeply can only result in trouble and pain, but like hell is he pushing MJ away. He’ll keep him safe, no matter what. He’ll always keep MJ safe, and all the other bridges he’ll cross when he gets to them.

“Don’t you want to tell them? I thought you did. We talked about this, and--”

“I do,” Peter says, cutting off MJ, “I want to tell them, I do. I’m sick of wearing the costume every time I come here and I want to shower and you know how awful wet spandex is and just... I didn’t see it coming,” he says, tired all of the sudden, all energy draining out of his body, “And then they all looked at me as if I’d punched their babies and spat on their grandmothers.”

“They didn't do that. Come on, you know they're just worried,” MJ tells him. It’s not what Peter wants to hear, it’s not what anyone wants to hear in a situation like this, but it’s what he needs and they both know it. “They think you don’t trust them. You should fix that.”

Peter stares at himself in the mirror, at the way he’s still bleeding like an idiot and how his costume looks like it’s been through a blender. He definitely scared them. “You’re right.”

“I know I am,” MJ says, laughing as he speaks and making Peter smile like an idiot at his reflection. “It will be fine, Peter. They’re your team.”

They are, and even though it’s still weird to think of the Avengers as his team, it’s not all that bad. It’s not something Peter wants to push away, a concept alien to him, since he's always pushing things away from himself for their safety. Or was. He’s already changed that for MJ. Maybe it’s time to change it for the Avengers too.

He puts a small bandage over the open gap on his forehead, careful not to mess it up, and then puts his mask back on and goes back to the living room. His footsteps are a bit quicker than they should, as if his body is afraid he’ll change his mind and wants to get this done as soon as possible before he can back out.

Nobody turns to look at him, but Peter can feel them waiting for him to do something, and there are so many things Peter could do.

He could say his name, just blurt it out and leave it hanging in the air for them to pry open and investigate.

He could comment on the romcom they’ve changed channels to, say it’s kind of crappy, but not really because his boyfriend has a minor role in it, and any movie with MJ in it is automatically good by Peter’s standards.

He could apologize. Actually he should do that regardless of what else he does.

In the end, Peter does the easiest thing, or at least the one that feels the easiest to do. He reaches around to the back of his neck and pulls off his mask, putting it on his lap afterwards so he can have something to look at and do with his hands.

Then they all stare, which is fine. Peter would probably be offended if they didn’t.

However they don’t say anything, just stare at his face, at his forehead half covered by a white bandage that goes all the way up to his hair, which has to be pointing in all directions. It always does that whenever he takes off the mask, just randomly decides to be a porcupine and leaves Peter to deal with the consequences of looking like he has a bedhead at four in the afternoon.

Peter lets his head drop forward so he can catch his bearings, lets himself zone out of everything, and more importantly, everyone that’s around him. He stares at his mask, a mix of bright red, blue and dark red from the blood, ripped where he’d been cut. It’s just a piece of fabric, but it means so much to who Peter is, to who Spider-Man is.

Without the mask anyone can pick him off on the streets, but these people are not anyone. And maybe Peter is fooling himself. Maybe he’s fallen face first into the idea of having a team without taking notice of how everyone felt. Maybe they already know everything about him and have only been entertaining him thus far. It doesn’t matter. He’s already gone this far, there’s no point in stopping now.

“My name is Peter. Peter Parker. I live in Queens and I teach biology to a bunch of midtown high school students who don’t know the difference between CO2 and H2O,” he says and then, because he’s Peter Parker, because he’s Spider-Man, because he likes to talk regardless of who is listening, he keeps going. “Let’s see… What else? I talk a lot, costume or not. I have a family, not very big, not big at all, and I wear this outfit to protect their safety because somebody once told me that with great power comes great responsibility, and I gotta live up to that.

“I got my powers from a radioactive spider when I was sixteen. I’m twenty-two now, not a kid, although I doubt that will stop people from calling me that. I don’t like strawberry ice cream, although it will do in a pinch, and I think Doctor Doom as a tattoo of himself in his chest. Oh and spandex doesn’t mix well with wet skin, in case any of you were wondering.”

“That all?” Luke asks. He sounds annoyed, but he’s smiling, so Peter doesn’t tense and worry he’s said too much.

“I also have a boyfriend. He’s called MJ, and now that I’ve told you that I’ll probably never shut up about him,” Peter says, shrugging, because he loves to talk about MJ and the more chances he gets the merrier. He doesn’t think it will be a problem anyway. Superheroes deal with a lot of crap, it’s practically in the jobs definition. They’re not ones to hold on to baseless prejudices and get angry when they can spend that time sleeping and eating instead.

On the couch to his right Logan snorts, making everyone look - and even glare in Cap and Luke’s case - at him. Logan lifts his hands in a mock surrender gesture.

“You reek of him, kid. This isn’t exactly flashing news to me,” he says as explanation, surprisingly tactful when Peter knows for a fact that if Logan ever enters a porcelain shop, his stare alone will be enough to cause hundreds of dollars in property damage.

“Oh,” Peter replies. He hadn’t thought of that, ridiculous since he has always known Logan’s sense of smell is like his spider sense, only a thousand times better. It was probably because Logan had never said anything, not to him or anyone else, if their faces of surprise were anything to go by.

Peter makes a mental note to thank him later. He knows he’s going to mess it up by talking too fast and all over the place, but he still has to do it.

“We’re glad you told us, Peter,” Cap says, breaking Peter from his reverie. Cap is smiling at him in a way that makes Peter understand why Tony always looks at him like he’s God’s gift to earth.

“High school teacher? Really? You’re more skilled than that.” Tony asks, tapping on his tablet in a way that tells Peter he’s searching Peter’s name. It makes him feel a bit queasy to know someone’s googling him, but it’s fine. It’s Tony and Peter trusts him with this.

“I don’t mind my job,” he says, not a lie, but not a complete truth either. Being a high school biology teacher isn’t all that bad, but it does leave him fraying at the edges some days.

“A boyfriend? You know, that actually explains a lot.” Jessica asks in an oddly contemplative tone.

“Thanks?” Peter asks, not sure if it’s a compliment or insult.

“Is he around? You can invite him here if you want.” Cap says, and then everyone is nodding and turning around towards the television, as if they’re no longer interested in Peter Parker’s Great Revelation: A Journey Out the Closet.

“Sure?” he asks, because he’s happy and feeling lighter than he has in a long time, but at the same time everything’s kind of flying above his head and he kind of feels like he’s in a dream.

He sends MJ a quick text, not wanting to call and word-vomit like he usually does when he’s not sure what he himself is thinking.

**To:  Michael Jay Watson aka Light of My Life aka Darlingest of Darlings**

**From: Peter Parker**

> i am alive!!! told them everything. feel kind of high. they asked if you wanted to come to movie night? watching whats your number. love you

**To:  Peter xxxxx**

**From: MJ Watson**

> I’ll be there in 20 xx

After that Peter tries to pay attention to the movie, but he’s already seen it a good ten times, so his thoughts end up straying all over the place, only focusing when MJ shows up on screen.

He notices how everyone keeps stealing glances at him from time to time, as if they can’t focus either because they can’t believe Peter’s actually sitting there without his mask on. And honestly? Peter is having a hard time believing it too. He almost puts the mask back on twice before he catches himself and stops in the middle of doing it.

He’s done it. He can’t go back now. He has no need to go back either. Everyone reacted well, MJ is coming over and if they liked him more than they liked Peter, well, Peter would cry only for a little bit, preferably somewhere where Logan couldn’t see him.

When the doorbell rings Peter jumps about five inches from the couch, and gets beaten to the punch when he goes to open the door, Jessica standing up and pushing Peter back on the couch before he can get up.

“Hello,” Peter hears her drawl, probably just to mess with him, “you must be Peter’s boyfriend. I’m Jessica.”

MJ flashes her a devastating smile - well, devastating to Peter - and shakes her hand. “Hello, I’m MJ. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, have you?” she asks, still trying to play the coy, sultry role even though less ten minutes ago she was scratching her stomach and drinking beer, like a more attractive, less hairy imitation of Wolverine.

Before either of them gets the chance to say anything else, Peter runs up and kisses MJ on the cheek. He stands right between them in case they still wanted to carry on with their ‘ahah, isn’t Peter so silly’ conversation and start listing off all the times Peter has said something embarrassing, which happens pretty much every time he opens his mouth.

“He’s cute,” Jessica whispers in his ear when they start walking back towards the living room, making Peter laugh unexpectedly.

“I know,” he whispers back.

When they get back, Jessica seats on her armchair while Peter does the introductions. He’s suddenly thankful for his costume since it hides how sweaty his hands are. On the other hand, it no longer hides his expression, which must be a mix between blushing virgin and confused dog. MJ, who was born with as much charm as Tony Stark, looks right at home, but Peter can tell he’s nervous too from the way his hands are twitching. You don’t get to meet superheroes everyday.

Ok. Peter does, but Peter is a superhero himself, so it’s different.

“MJ, this is mom and dad,” he says, pointing to Steve, who smiles in amusement, and Tony, who rolls his eyes before he smiles, too, “and Power Muscles and Mr. Grumpy Face.”

Luke laughs and Logan just lifts both his eyebrows at him, like he knows something Peter doesn’t, has refrained from saying it until then but is seriously reconsidering that decision. Shit. How far does that sense of smell really go? Oh God, is he part dog or something?

“It’s very nice to meet all of you,” MJ says after he shakes hands with everyone. He grabs Peter’s hand when it becomes obvious Peter is frozen in horror staring at Logan, and sits down on the couch where Peter had been sitting, pulling Peter to sit next to him.

“You look like shit,” MJ whispers. “And I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Peter whispers back, deciding he’s had worse said about him than anything Logan can come up with. He smiles at MJ like a fool madly in love, which he totally is, so it’s alright.

They settle to watch the rest movie in silence, congratulatory pizza, beer and soda scattered around the room for anyone to grab. Said silence lasts about five minutes until the two wires connect in everyone’s brain and they figure out why the guy they’re seeing on television asking Kirsten Dunst on a date is remarkably similar to the guy sitting next to them.

“Oh,” Luke says, eyes going back and forth between the two images for a second before he makes the final connection. “You’re an actor?”

“Yeah, but I only just started. I used to model before,” MJ says, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand and looking terribly embarrassed when he knows, he _so_ knows, there is not one goddamn thing that’s embarrassing about being a super hot model who’s already made it into Hollywood movies.

Peter can see everyone’s eyebrows shoot up without looking away from the TV.

“Ok, I gotta ask; how did you get together?” Luke asks.

“Hey!” Peter shouts, full of fake indignation. He gets the question. He’s not unattractive, but he talks like crazy, gets beaten up on a daily basis and teaches high school kids the difference between analog and digital, while MJ goes around strutting in expensive clothes and making people cry with his acting skills. Peter himself is still not one hundred percent positive how they got together, simply very happy that they did.

The rest of the night dissolves into Peter and MJ talking about themselves, mostly just MJ talking while Peter stares at him in wonder. It’s nice. It’s more than nice, actually, to have people to talk to and more importantly, to have people who care. And Peter knows that now, it’s not just Spider-Man who is part of the Avengers, it’s also Peter Parker and MJ Watson and that is both reassuring and scary, but mostly, it’s simply good.

Logan is the first to leave, scoffing and acting like he couldn’t care less about Peter’s gay come out when Peter can tell he’s totally smiling behind that beer.

Luke and Jessica are next to call it a night, and not too long after they are followed by Tony and Steve, who go the same direction again. Jesus, they are barely even trying. Or maybe they’d come out at some point and Peter missed the memo? He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have missed Iron Man and Captain America coming out as the World’s Hottest Gay Couple, but you never knew.

“Have they come out as a couple?” he asks MJ.

“No? I don’t think so. Have they?”

“I don’t know,” Peter replies. They fall into a comfortable silence, just the two of them, sitting in the middle of Avengers living room as some random cops show plays on the TV, Peter with his mask off for the very first time and the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with next to him.

Yeah, that would never get old.

“I have a room here,” Peter says, and MJ just laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

“I know. Come on,” he says, getting up and offering Peter a hand. “You still need to shower, and a fresh pair of clothes, but I’ll get you those later.”

“Thank you,” Peter says. He drops his head on MJ’s shoulder. Even though he’s still got a ton of problems; even though life hasn’t become easy and danger free all the sudden; even though overall things haven’t changed all that much, it still feels like some of the weight on his shoulders has been lifted, and it's easier to breathe than it has been in a long time.


End file.
